


Holy Water

by theescapist99



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt, but hooray no sad twist endings here, but still, credence is still a christian, fine its more like angst with a happy ending, gold star for me, i actually wrote something happy, i still dont know how to tag things, its actually pretty weird, its almost hurt/comfort i think, look you guys, obviously, percival is not, theres a bit of percival undressing credence for non sexual purposes, what a shocker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Credence tries to drown himself at the bottom of a lake in a simultaneous bid for death and purification. Thankfully, a horrified Percival finds him in time and pulls him out.In the aftermath, both Credence and Percival are left to try and figure out what's eating at each other.





	Holy Water

_Breathe..._

Credence heard the word through the end of a pitch black tunnel, but the brain cells that connected sound with understanding where still lost in that dark abyss between life and death.

His wit and comprehension – with the rest of his body – were still drowning in chilly water.

Credence did sputter slightly, and he felt a weight pressing down on his chest -- but he assumed the pressure was from nothing other than the sweet embrace of death.

It was – after all – death who Credence had invited to come find him, when he tied the heavy boulder around his ankle before he plunged into the lake.

_Breathe..._

Sure, it was hardly the easiest way to go about killing yourself.

What with knowledge of both magical and non magical worlds, one would think that Credence could have picked a much less painless way to commit suicide.

While Credence had never even come close to drowning before, it should have been no great shock that drowning wasn't one of the gentler ways to die.

It was long, slow.. agonizing. The current of the water – no matter how gentle the wind – pushed and pulled waves of cold liquid through your orifices. Water filled each cavity with mounting and inescapable pressure.

Yet there was one thing that could be said about it – one redeeming quality for those who could appreciate a twisted sense of humor:

It was clean.

It was not bloody – like the slitting of wrists or a gunshot through the head.

It did not distort your features too much – like the grotesque discoloration that came from death by noose.

It did not break apart limbs like the aftermath of jumping off of great heights.

When they did find him – Credence imagined – he would look at least somewhat serene and presentable, and not quite as traumatizing to the poor soul who happened to find his corpse.

And yet... death by drowning had even deeper meaning to Credence:

It meant purification.

_Breathe..._

Chastity and Modesty had both been baptized, and Credence had been there to witness the symbolic rebirth of both his sisters.

He actually had found it to be beautiful notion:

The idea that no matter your origins or sins -- you could be born again through water that represented His power to cleanse and forgive.

It was always one of few practices of the church that Credence rather admired.

And of course, it was one of the myriad of things that Mary Lou Barebone had so scathingly denied him.

_Breathe..._

"No priest would agree to baptize you, Credence," Ma' had snarled at him in his childhood, when she was in a particularly nasty mood, "You're too dirty, you have your mother to thank for that. Wouldn't surprise me if that holy water burned your whole face off the minute you touched it. Now, go help Chastity with the dishes, the children will be here soon..."

_Breathe, god dammit..._

Maybe if Ma' would have baptized him earlier -- the manifestation of evil that served as his power would not have seen him as such an ideal vessel.

Maybe if Ma' would have baptized him when he had asked -- maybe Credence would not be responsible for the still largely unexplained destruction in New York.

Maybe if Ma' had allowed him that religious rebirth – that much needed purification -- Ma' could have saved them both.

But instead, she was dead.

And soon -- with any luck -- Credence would be too.

_Credence!_

_Breathe!_

His imagined death pressed down on his chest with violent force, and Credence was suddenly gasping – yet he was confused to find the cold air of an early winter morning trickling into his mouth, rather than a fatal surge of ice water that would send him to the pearly gates at last.

Gradually -- Credence felt vision flooding back into his eyesight as gobs of water fled from his mouth through a fit of violent and heaving coughs.

He ventured a look to his right -- and a sharply delivered slap greeted him before his eyes could even register who it originated from.

"What the fuck, Credence?!?"

Although his sight was still blurry, Credence recognized Percival Graves' voice without issue.

The Auror turned makeshift guardian was usually at work this time of day, and Credence had made it a point to plan his escape effort at a time when the older man could not intervene.

"Ho- how... did... you..." Credence sputtered as he continued to cough out more water.

"Queenie could hear you!" Percival reminded him, and Credence looked up to see the distant, vague outline of the Goldstein sisters watching from afar. He was almost glad he couldn't see the details of their expressions... if he were to take a guess, they probably looked upset.

Probably should have done this a little farther from MACUSA.

"I..." Credence started but fell short of any kind of rebuttal.

There just wasn't much to say... he had never expected this turn of events.

He didn't expect to be alive... Credence didn't anticipate having to explain himself, and he found himself at a loss for words now that he did.

"Don't you _ever_ do something this stupid again!" Percival reprimanded him, his tone angrier than Credence had ever heard it. There was a savage kind of desperation in the subtle way that the older man's voice croaked as he spoke, and Credence wasn't sure what to make of it.

Percival turned back to the sisters.

"Thank you for telling me, Queenie," Percival nodded curtly before he roughly grabbed Credence's right upper arm, apparating them back to his brownstone without warning.

When they were in the privacy of Percival's residence – by a warm fire in the hearth that had sprung to life by it's own free will at their arrival – Credence managed to see just a smidge better.

He felt guilt as he noticed that Percival's clothes were equally drenched, realizing that the man had dived into the freezing lake to pull him out from it.

For someone who didn't have a death wish, it was probably not an ideal way to spend your morning.

" _What the fuck, Credence_?!?" Percival repeated once they had found their footing on the shag carpet of the older man's living room, "Why would do that?!?"

He practically screamed the second question, and it was a scream so raw with frustration that Credence found himself actually wishing he were back at the bottom of the lake.

"I don't know," Credence whimpered, his face still sore from where Percival had slapped him, "I'm just tired. I don't want to be a burden anymore. I... I wanted to see God and ask for forgiveness."

The answer only seemed to make Percival fume more, "You do realize that suicide leads to hell right?!? That’s religion 101 Credence, even I know that!"

"Why are you so angry at me?" Credence asked suddenly, his mind reeling with his own confusion and frustration.

This wasn't supposed to happen... and after ruining his plans, Percival was now yelling at him on top of everything.

Did the man seriously just bring him back to life so he could berate Credence one more time before he went?

Percival didn't seem to have a response to the question himself, appearing either dumbfounded or perhaps simply still choking on his own rage. Either way, it annoyed Credence that the older man didn't seem to know why he stopped him, or why he was making such a fuss now.

Instead of an answer, Percival responded by asking quietly, "Was it something I did?"

Credence thought about that -- because in truth, coming from Percival Graves... It was a loaded question. Yet Credence knew that Percival already struggled with the guilt of his imposter's crimes, so he opted for the short answer.

"No," Credence shook his head, "Of course not."

"Then why, Credence?"

"I don't know," Credence half whispered as his line of vision strayed to various places trying to avoid staying on the man in front of him, whose distress he still did not understand.

"You don't do something like that without having some reason for doing it," Percival tittered, although his voice had lowered to a more conversational volume.

"I felt... dirty, I guess..." Credence mumbled.

He was ashamed of his own candid honesty, but it was obvious that Percival wasn't about to give up on the conversation and go back to work anytime soon.

"Ma' never gave me a proper baptism, said I was too evil, and God wouldn't accept me. I don't know, maybe I was trying to prove her wrong."

Percival groaned as he finally moved to summon some towels.

The older man then pushed Credence down onto the couch -- proceeding to dry him off like a child who got into too much mud.

As he pushed back some of Credence's damp bangs with a particularly firm sweep, Percival told him in a low voice heavy with annoyance:

"Well neither your Ma' nor God know jack shit, Credence... I don't know how many times I have to tell you that. You're not dirty, and you're not evil."

"Then what am I?" Credence whispered thoughtfully. His voice was distant, contemplative.

The question was meant to be rhetorical.

Percival's hands froze midway through his absent minded doting and fussing.

His callous fingers teased at the sides of Credence's soaked undershirt -- as though they were fighting the urge to peel the final layer of upper body clothing off.

Instead, he looked down to meet Credence at eye level, and his fingers came up to the tip of a moist chin, stroking at the jawline almost lovingly as Percival forced Credence to look at him.

The older man's eyes bore into Credence's very soul. Just as it had been with Gellert Grindelwald – the intensity Percival's eyes held felt enchanted by magic all on their own.

Credence had always felt that those eyes could see more into a person than what the naked eye typically did see -- and right this moment he could feel the scrutiny of Percival's gaze as though something were reaching inside him and trifling through something intimate and illusive – something Credence himself was not familiar with.

"You're just another human being, Credence," Percival said finally, and even Credence had to admit it wasn't the answer he had expected (although he hadn't really been expecting any answer at all), "You're not a sinner, you're not Satan, you're not an angel either. You're human like the rest of us, flaws and all."

Credence nodded slowly, still hanging on to Percival's every word like a student would a teacher's.

The man radiated such intensity when he was being serious, and it was hard to not be entranced by it. Captivated, even.

It was _almost_ distracting him from the fact that Percival had begun to remove Credence's wet clothing in a seductively slow manner, something Credence was pretty sure he could have done with the wave of a wand.

...Almost.

"..but," Percival continued on as he finally began to pull a dry, plain black tee over Credence's head, "...that doesn't mean you're not special to someone, Credence. Just like normal humans are imperfect by nature, it is also in our nature to care for each other regardless of those imperfections. Now I admit, my boy, I know nothing about what God really wants or anything to that degree... but I do know that it hurts those who care about you when they're worried for your safety. So, you must understand why you should never do so intentionally."

"...but what if you have no one who cares about you?" Credence asked quietly, trying not to squirm as Percival unhooked the top of his pants.

Percival glared indignantly at that, huffing as he muttered, "Are you really proposing that I just dove into a lake of ice for someone I don't care about, Credence?"

Credence stayed silent, somehow still unable to fully comprehend what Percival could mean by that.

When the quiet moment began to border on awkward, Percival sighed.

"If it really means that much to you, I can take you to a church to get baptized... maybe this coming weekend."

Credence perked up at the idea almost instantly – the proposition that should have been obvious from the beginning now filling him with excitement.

And in this excitement, Credence had a sudden idea that caused him to actually smile.

"You should get baptized with me, Mr. Graves!"

"What? No," Percival recoiled at the suggestion as he gently slipped a new pair of slacks over Credence's pale thighs.

"Why not? I'm sure it would make you feel better about... well..." Credence trailed off, but he knew that Percival understood exactly what he had meant.

They both knew that Percival had been suffering through quite the identity crisis since he had been rescued from his captivity, and really, who wouldn't?

It was a heavy burden to bear, Credence was sure.

Christ's divine forgiveness sounded like the perfect medicine to such an ailment -- and Credence wasn't sure why he hadn't suggested it to Percival before now.

Of course -- Credence had also come to understand that the original Percival Graves was every bit as stubborn as his imposter. So it came as a surprise then -- when Percival actually agreed.

"I suppose... I might consider it," Percival muttered begrudgingly, "...as long as you promise to never pull a stunt like this again. You come to me before you tie yourself to anymore rocks. Deal?"

It was a no-brainer, and Credence was happy to accept the bargain – so long as he could do something to return a fracture of the many favors the true Percival Graves had granted him since they had met.

The idea alone revitalized Credence's motivation to stay alive.

"Deal."

"Good," Percival returned Credence's smile with a small curl of his own lip.

The older man rested a strong and firm hand onto the top of Credence's head. He ruffled Credence's dark hair lightly, and Credence felt heat rush to his face that had absolutely nothing to do with the fire that continued to crack merrily in the fireplace.

Suddenly, it occurred to Credence that he should be grateful that Ma' never agreed to baptize him.

As it turns out -- the thought of rebirth in the company of someone you truly loved was _so_ much closer to the kind of holy salvation that Credence had been seeking all along.


End file.
